Some stories paint us sweet, told to children as they fall asleep.
Mother Earth she weaves the world with a whirl of her magic, and her kind embrace shapes us all. Father Time keeps us all, ever constant, ever moving onwards, for time never stands still. Icy hands and a frozen touch, Jack Frost ushers in the cold snap, coating the earth with sparkly delights. If Jack brings cold, May Queen brings warmth, her delicate touch bringing forth the spring. Follow the rainbow and maybe you’ll find, a Leprechaun with his lucky pot of gold. The watchful eyes of Man in the Moon keeps all of the secrets of the night, shining down on us with his silvery light. The Sandman is here to soothe you to sleep, bringing all to slumber with a pinch of magic dust. Shhh, sleep now. Beware the Boogeyman lurking out of sight, waiting under your bed, to catch naughty children in the night. Be good little children, for Santa is watching, and he knows if you’ve been naughty or nice. Tales of lore, fair music to our ears. Can you hear it? Did you know? Not every tale is sweet. The truth is darker, our stories more twisted, unlike the rhymes that children hear. All proceeds will be donated to Save the Children.
This is a mixed M/F and M/M anthology that contains trigger warnings for its dark content.
It is intended for a mature audience of 18+.
Enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway for a chance to win a $10 Amazon Gift Card
Can he build a future, when he’s forgotten his past?
Jared has fought hard to achieve something close to ‘normal’. Needing to get away from his well-meaning but suffocating family, he follows a message he wrote on a scrap of paper to a new city, hoping to find a missing piece of his past.
When Kyrone, a cocky pole dancer at the Heaven and Hell Club, saunters into the tattoo parlour Jared works in, his life is turned upside down again. A passionate one night stand turns into something unexpected for both men. But life is never simple as they work out if they can have a future beyond what has been forgotten.
Forgotten is an MM romance with hurt/comfort, a small age gap, and two men who need to learn to be true to themselves. It is the second book in the Heaven and Hell Club series and, whilst it can be read as a standalone, works better if read after Broken.
“I tell you what,” Kyrone said. “I’ll jump into the shower and then nip to the corner shop to get us something more substantial and healthier for breakfast. You can take a shower while I’m gone. How does that sound?”
Jared glanced at the pile of their clothes on the floor. He didn’t much fancy putting on dirty, slept-in clothes straight after a shower.
“I need to put some laundry on,” Kyrone said. “So I’ll throw your clothes in too.”
“What am I meant to wear in the meantime?”
“Nothing?” Kyrone asked hopefully. “I don’t mind if you wander around my flat naked.”
Jared laughed and shook his head.
“I’ve got a top you can wear.” Kyrone pursed his lips. “I’m pretty sure my underwear and jeans will swamp you, though.”
“Probably,” Jared agreed.
Kyrone extricated himself from beneath Jared and moved to an oversized chest of drawers. He rummaged through the drawers for a couple of minutes, giving Jared an unobstructed view of the man’s lean back and taut arse. With a small cheer, Kyrone pulled out a huge round-neck jumper with wide stripes in two contrasting shades of grey. It looked too big for Kyrone, let alone Jared.
Kyrone threw it across to him. “That should cover you up.”
“It still feels like you’re trying to hold me hostage for the afternoon,” Jared said in a teasing tone. “I can’t exactly go home, wearing nothing but an oversized jumper.”
Kyrone knelt on the bed, leaning forward onto his hands, his face close to Jared’s. “Do you want to go home?” he asked in a soft, low tone that made Jared shiver.
“Then I don’t see a problem, do you?”
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
Even for those determined to succeed, Fate is no guarantee.
Imperial Duke Damian Draconis has always known he would have two mates. His whole life, he’s yearned to prove to his parents and the world that such a match is not doomed for failure. His household is brimming with happy couples, and he wants the same joy in his heart—but on his own terms. Consumed with his desire to challenge the unfair assumption that his goal is foolhardy, he’s convinced it takes only determination to succeed.
A walk into a dingy coffee shop proves that Fate does indeed have two men in mind for him, and Damian moves forward with soaring resolve. Though all is not as it seems, with some convincing on Damian’s part, the three men come to an agreement to proceed. But right from the start obstacles make themselves known, pushing them to the brink.
Damian soon learns that what you want isn’t always what you need, upending all he thought he knew. He never imagined nor is he prepared for the way his true mate lights up his soul. In the end Damian will find that determination is not everything, and sometimes you must ignore what Fate wants if it means following your heart.
“Aren’t you scared someone is going to bust into the kitchen and steal Chrys?” Praxis teased in between bites of eggs and bacon.
Damian gave his youngest sibling a hard glare, though it was difficult to keep his smile at bay. He liked the cheeky kid that had somehow grown into a well-adjusted teenager despite Andriana’s and Gelon’s influences. “You do realize that you’re insulting your own dad-mate, right? He’s going to be here.”
When Praxis had grown close to his father and Costas, he’d borrowed the term Trystan D’Vaire used for his own parent not related by blood—the former Emperor Conley. “No way, because he’s a financial duke, and you’re the one in charge of security. Besides, you literally never leave Chrys alone.”
“Right, like I follow him and Elf into their room at night.”
Praxis laughed so hard he snorted. “Gross. No, I mean like when he leaves the house. You’re always with him.”
“He’s not going anywhere this morning.”
“What if he wanted to?”
Chrysander said nothing as he grinned around his coffee mug. There would be no help from that quarter.
“You know what? I think there’s too much of an age gap between you and me to have sibling rivalry, and yet you’re always crawling up my butt about something. What gives?”
“I’m the youngest and you’re the oldest. It’s my job to annoy you.”
“You’re doing a great job.”
“Thanks. I’m an overachiever.”
“I know it. You got top marks in every subject this quarter,” Damian commented proudly. Not only was the kid friendly and nice but wickedly smart.
“Yeah, somehow Dad-mate has helped me not suck at math.”
“You didn’t suck—you didn’t have any opportunity to be taught what you needed until you arrived here,” Niko corrected.
“Sometimes you’re too nice, Dad.”
“He’s always too nice. It’s one of his many fine qualities,” Damian retorted.
Damian stood and stuck his plate in the dishwasher. “Chrys, call or text me if you need to go out.”
“Yeah, so Damianos can crap his pants as he races out of the coffee shop,” Praxis teased.
Because it annoyed him, Damian ruffled Praxis’s hair. The fourteen-year-old predictably slapped at his hand. “Exactly. I’m going to leave Elf in charge around here since the rest of you like to run amok,” Damian joked as he saluted His Majesty. He strode over to the threshold of the living area and stopped when he heard Praxis’s chuckle. “And Costas, you can give Tiri a dollar for giving me the finger.”
“He really does have eyes in the back of his head,” Praxis said as Damian got his feet moving again. He didn’t need to see behind him to know what Costas was doing. Damian had learned everything about being a duke from Costas, and they’d been side by side from the time he and Chrys were a century old. It was comforting to know your family so well you could guess correctly about their actions even when you weren’t facing them.
It was probably foolish, but Damian couldn’t bring himself to leave his communication device at home as he waved at the duke that manned the desk outside the condo and stepped into the elevator. Being the Imperial Duke is too much a part of who I am to simply clock out when my duty for the day is done, he thought as he rode down to the garage level. Since he was so often with Their Majesties, he rarely drove. However, he kept a few snazzy beasts for when the mood hit, and he chose the black Ferrari for his jaunt to the coffee shop.
About the Author
Jessamyn Kingley lives in Nevada where she begs the men in her head to tell her their amazing stories which she dutifully writes it all down in what has become a small mountain of notebooks. She falls in love with each couple and swears whatever book she wrote last is her absolute favorite.
Jessamyn is married and working toward remembering to start the dishwasher without being distracted by the scent of the magical detergent. For personal enjoyment, she aids in cat rescue while slashing and gashing her way through mobs in various MMORPGs. Caffeine is her very best friend and is only cast aside briefly for the sin better known as BBQ potato chips.
Henry Lord is about to be named the Mayor of Knights Port.
The Lord family are born politicians and as the sole heir to the throne, Henry has spent his entire life preparing for this, and more. If he plays his cards right, his assent to the White House will break barriers. But changing the old guard isn’t easy and he has to watch his every action, his every word and his back at all times.
One misstep and his entire plan crumbles.
Enter Elliot Cole.
He’s young and so rough around the edges he cuts. He’s from the wrong side of the tracks and he doesn’t abide by rules. He’s absolutely the worst person Henry could choose to get involved with and yet… from the moment they meet he can’t imagine his picture perfect life without the foul-mouthed brat.
Henry is accustomed to getting what he wants and what he wants is Elliot. No matter what it costs him. No matter what the political elite might think. Elliot is his. Now he just has to convince the other man that what they can have is a happily ever after.
Elliot licked his bottom lip, playing with the stud in his tongue for a moment, watching the way the other man’s pale blue eyes followed the movement. His own cock reacted to the tease he’d intended for it to be. He half expected the perfect male specimen to jerk himself out of whatever insanity he was clearing going through and walk away, but he didn’t and Elliot found himself stepping closer to him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” He drawled playfully with a wag of his eyebrows.
Henry watched his every move and didn’t back away, “I could say the same for you.”
He stopped just in front of the other man. Henry was slightly taller than him, which was saying something considering Elliot easily hit six feet. In this position, he had to look up at him and Elliot liked that, oh he liked that a lot. Liked that he could sense the tension radiating off the man who appeared outwardly calm but who buzzed as if a storm was raging inside of him. Liked the clean scent of soap and musk that came off of him, not bourbon or the starchy cologne he’d been hit with all night. Just man, raw, hot, hard, man.
“I’ve been trying to catch you all night but you seem to always slip right through my fingers.” Henry’s intense eyes traced over his face.
Elliot already knew that. He’d noticed the most important man in the room instantly, and he’d seen Henry notice him too. It was one of the reasons he’d escaped to the patio. All of the scorching looks Henry had been shooting at him had set his insides on fire. Had made him want and he’d learned a long time ago not to want things, especially when they were things he could never have. Yet Henry had followed him out here and he couldn’t help but tease him a little, just to try and find his footing with the man.
“Well, you caught me.” He looked up from beneath his lashes, “The question is, what’re you going to do with me now?”
“Not let you slip away again, that’s for sure.”
Elliot smirked, “Is that so? You planning to tie me up and throw me in your basement?”
“I was thinking I’d just tie you to my bed.” Henry surprised him with those words and from the twinkle in his eyes he knew it.
Elliot sucked in a quick gulp of breath but it didn’t help. Even the air he breathed smelled like Henry Lord and it was overwhelming. Everything about this man overwhelmed him. God, had he ever wanted someone like this? Had he ever had anyone look at him like that? Like he was the only thing they could see? He swallowed hard, trying to figure out what was happening.
Henry surprised him again when he reached out and brushed Elliot’s long hair back, cupping his jaw and stroking a thumb across his bottom lip, “What? No quick response? Cat got your tongue?”
He found his voice and met those intense blue eyes, “No, but you might, if you’re lucky.”
“God, you’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?” Henry smirked, his eyes on his finger that kept stroking over Elliot’s bottom lip, a touch so intimate, so possessive, that he couldn’t explain why it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“You don’t have a clue what my mouth can do.”
It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Elliot felt it in every nerve ending of his body but before he could decide whether he was ready to push that far or not with this stranger that was so far out of his league it was ridiculous, Henry made the decision for them.
His mouth crashed down on Elliot’s and they both groaned. Fire. Heat. It had sparked the moment their eyes met and now that they were touching it burned even brighter. Smooth, soft lips stroked over his own once, twice and on the third pass the sweet swipe of a tongue had him opening with a moan. The kiss turned from exploring to passionate, uncontrollable need in a split second.
About the Author
Jess Bryant is an avid indoorswoman. A city girl trapped in a country girl’s life, her heart resides in Dallas but her soul and roots are in small town Oklahoma. She enjoys manicures, the color pink, and her completely impractical for country life stilettos. She believes that hair color is a legitimate form of therapy, as is reading and writing romance. She started writing as a little girl but her life changed forever when she stole a book from her aunt’s Harlequin collection and she’s been creating love stories with happily ever afters ever since.
Jess holds a degree in Public Relations from the University of Oklahoma and is a lifetime supporter of her school and athletic teams. And why not? They have a ton of National Championships! She may be a girlie girl but she knows her sports stats and isn’t afraid to tell you that your school isn’t as cool as hers… or that your sports romance got it all wrong.
For more information on Jess and upcoming releases, contact her at JessBryantBooks@gmail.com or follow her on her many social media accounts for news and shenanigans.
A novel about life in a United States gone mad, where the government falls apart, California secedes from the union, and Liberals and Conservatives finally battle each other in the streets. It’s the Culture War, and it’s coming. Find out what to do when men and women start to get caged up just for being gay; when climate disasters unfold and wreck the economy; when the world falls apart once and for all. It’s ‘Atlas Shrugged,’ but in reverse.
Stephe Stafford, embroiled in this conflict, hopes to preserve his sanity—and even finds love along the way. In 2037 we watch Stephe, orphaned in the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 2022, grow up and even blossom into his own.
New technologies and old politics weave together to form amazing possibilities and hopes—and certain dangers, too. Read about the fate of America as we move into a chilling new future. Find out what can we do when the world goes awry.
Republican President Mitch Kellum, elected in 2028, urged calm, but the damage was done. Calls for the election to be overturned sprang from all parts of the country. Kellum denied any wrongdoing. It was the Russians and the Chinese, he claimed, determined to destabilize the U.S.
Democrats had lost all remaining political power and the conservative U.S. Supreme Court upheld the election in predictable fashion, six to three.
It was like a bomb had gone off. Protests turned to riots. Far-right fundamentalists took to the streets in support of the election, and faced off with teeming hordes of furious liberals. A nation that had been savagely divided, blue against red, liberal against conservative for the past thirteen years, would eventually fall into violence. It finally happened in Philadelphia on November 9, 2030. Rioting liberals clashed with Freedom Fighters, neo-Nazis, and Proud Boys on Market Street at the beautiful Philadelphia City Hall building. Fisticuffs, brawls, burning cars. Shots rang out. The police, caught in the middle, fell apart; each officer defected to his or her side of the political divide and joined the fight.
The Culture War had begun.
Battlements were hastily built in the streets of Washington, DC, New York, Chicago, Seattle, Los Angeles, Miami, Atlanta, and Minneapolis. It was bedlam. The streets became littered with bodies as street fights broke out: Red versus Blue, Conservative versus Liberal.
People fled the cities only to find skirmishes in the suburbs. Ikea parking lots were battle zones. A Home Depot in Enid, Oklahoma, was burnt to the ground. Fires started everywhere.
The country spasmed in violence, hand to hand, block by block. After thirteen years of political loggerheads, the center could no longer hold. Any attempt at civil discourse fell on deaf ears. It was us against them, everywhere.
A typical confrontation would be as follows: Unarmed Liberals vastly outnumbered armed Freedom Fighters. They’d go toe-to-toe in the streets, yelling and waving signs in confrontation. Fist fights would break out. But then someone would get mad, grab their gun, and start shooting. Others would join in and the unarmed protesters would flee back behind barricades of cars, buses, dumpsters and buildings, leaving the dead and wounded in the street. It was like a form of trench warfare—and this was played out in cities and towns across the country. Attack and retreat. Attack and retreat. And anger—people were incredibly angry. They fought tooth and nail, neighbor against neighbor, family member against family member.
In San Francisco the tens of thousands of liberals lining Market Street day after day eventually found themselves being bludgeoned by Freedom Fighters. Skirmish lines fell into place along the main street and shots were fired. Freedom Fighters were hopelessly outnumbered though and, despite having guns, were quickly overpowered by the throngs of San Franciscans. They fled.
Stephe was there with Nicole. They’d come up from Harrison Street to take part in the demonstration that day. Nicole wound up hitting a neo-Nazi with her shoe, bloodying his face while Stephe—feeling nothing but cold rage—just took his rifle and hit him with it.
The National Guard had to be mobilized to quell the riots, and still it wasn’t enough. The U.S. Army and the Marines were added and took to the streets with water cannons and tear gas.
Finally the main fights in the bigger cities were quelled by force. After six bloody days the spasm ended. Thousands were dead. Many more thousands were arrested by the military and taken to separate camps, red and blue, for disturbing the peace and inciting violence.
Thus began a new Cold War as Americans could no longer speak to one another.
About the Author
Luke Mauerman is a former columnist for Bear and 100% Beef Magazines, and is well into his trilogy of books on time travel. He majored in English from the University of Washington in Seattle and currently resides in Palm Springs.
Hello again, Mr. No here, communications agent for T.A.G. and your inside source to your favorite agents. Our next file is on Operation Gingersnap and none other than Agent Code name Mr. Kr, aka Connor Foley Turgenev, our snarky and hyperactive computer genius. Connor gets hit with a blast from the past that he’d thought was long dead. Yoshi and the rest of Upper Management must scramble to save him before his situation turns dire. In the meantime, will nearly losing Connor push our gentle giant of a Chef, Asbjorn Sternberg, to open himself up to Connor and truly be the Daddy and partner that Connor wants and needs? Or will he let injuries obtained while serving in the Norwegian Army fuel his self doubt? Find out this and exciting news that might change the face of T.A.G.’s future in this next installment from the archives.
I had been fantasizing about the time I finally got Oz to bend me over his knee and spank me. It was during Yoshi’s promotion party. A few months after we’d gotten Dmitry back Dad promoted Yoshi to Mr. C. It wasn’t unusual to have two agents with the same rank/codename. It happened frequently in the lower ranks, but in upper management it was rare. This led to Yoshi being called Mr. C2 around HQ to avoid any confusion.
Dad wanted Yoshi to start learning more about management as soon as possible. He still wasn’t planning on stepping down for another few years, but he wanted to spend more time with Nigel than over paperwork. No one could blame him. I took the opportunity to get a little tipsy and tease Daddy.
We were in the main dining hall and the music was going, drinks were flowing. I enlisted the help of Karl and Ricky to add a dash of jealousy to my tease. I got them both stacks of ৳10 banknotes. The pink bills were perfect for stuffing in places they shouldn’t be. One of the DJs from The Black Dragon was there, and I had conspired with him earlier in the week to play a song for me. I practiced for weeks the routine I was going to do. I wasn’t the best dancer, but I could shake my butt. I was determined to Magic Mike the fuck out of Daddy and seduce him to my bed.
The song right before my song was almost over, and I climbed up on the table in the center of the hall. Oz was talking to Dad and Nigel and not paying any attention to me. That was about to change. I had on a clean white tank top and my black break away jogging pants with dark green briefs with white trim underneath. I had thought about wearing one of my lace booty shorts underneath, but I didn’t want all the other guards and agents to see what belonged to Daddy. I knew there was a fine line between naughty and disrespect.
The beat started slow and hard. My hips popped and my body rolled. My eyes locked on the hulking form still across the room. Whistles rent the air. My body dropped to the table, and I ground against the surface, popping my butt up and down. More people gathered around the table, both men and women, cheering and shouting. Pink, blue, and green bills spilled across the table. Daddy was standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest. They bulged and flexed under the baby blue shirt he wore. His hair was down, but half the side was braided against his skull in several braids and then left loose. There were a few braids in his luscious beard. He was a Viking god with black eyeliner and blue sparkled eye shadow that matched his t-shirt.
I hopped back up to my feet and whipped my tank top off, tossing it wherever. I rolled and thrust my way down the table. Daddy’s gaze burned through me the whole way down. I beat slow and spread my legs wide, crouching low as my hips continued to roll. I put my hands on my thighs and gripped the fabric tightly. I licked my lips and stared Daddy right in his crystalline blue eyes. We both knew what was coming next, and he slowly shook his head.
I thrusted up hard and ripped my pants off in one smooth motion as the music crested. The cheers got louder, and I twirled around. I bent over and twirked my squat booty right in Daddy’s face. I knew he wouldn’t miss the “Daddy’s” spelled out in white letters across my ass. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around and flung over Daddy’s shoulder. Whistles and cheers followed us as Oz almost jogged out of the hall.
About the Author
A.G. Carothers is actually a dragon very cleverly disguised as a human. They are a non-binary author of LGBTQIA Romance and Urban Fantasy, who enjoys writing original and entertaining stories. They are very excited to share the worlds they’ve created with you.
A.G. currently lives in Tennessee with their platonic life partner, who is not a dragon. They yearn to live back in Europe and will some day. In their spare time they are addicted to losing themselves in the lovely worlds created by other authors A.G. is committed to writing the stories they see in their head without restrictions. Love is blind and doesn’t see gender, race, or sexuality.
Protecting his shifter from threats is easy, but can he protect him from his own ambition?
As part of the G-Force Federation, gargoyle Jude is a newly promoted pilot eager to prove himself on his first solo assignment. Unfortunately, his plans go awry when his craft is shot down, leaving him stranded in the desert.
Kirby is a fennec fox shifter on the desert world of Cairo. When Jude’s ship comes under attack he races to help him, and after the crash he offers to guide him back to the base.
Their journey across the harsh desert is fraught with dangers, one of which is the lure of Kirby’s scent as he goes into heat for the first time. Jude’s protective attitude towards him pushes all the right buttons with Kirby, and it doesn’t take much for him to persuade the gargoyle to be his first lover.
When Kirby discovers he is pregnant they know one of them will have to make a sacrifice if they want to raise their baby together, but can either of them give up everything they have ever known?
Jude almost tripped over Kirby when the young shifter did a sudden about-face, darted through his legs, and crouched behind him.
“What is it?” He kept his voice low. Something must have startled Kirby, and he trusted the shifter’s hearing to be far more acute than his own.
He took a few steps, cautiously scanning their surroundings.
By keeping a close eye on the direction Kirby appeared to be focusing on, he was ready for company. The two fennec foxes were larger than Kirby and had a haggard appearance that told of fights and rough living.
Kirby growled and hunched lower.
Jude crouched and placed a hand on Kirby’s furry back. “I don’t like the look of them either,” he whispered. “Do you want me to carry you?”
Kirby hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head and shifting back to human form.
The two newcomers did likewise. The change didn’t improve their appearances. They were older than Kirby, perhaps in their thirties. The larger of them leered at Kirby. “It must be our lucky day. Such a ripe little treasure crossing our path.” He sniffed loudly. “Ah, yes, and untasted. There’s nothing like being the first.”
Jude didn’t like the sound of that, and from Kirby’s shiver, neither did he. He took a step in front of Kirby. “Back off.”
“Stay out of this, human.”
Jude felt Kirby’s hands on his arm, the grip tight. “Don’t worry Kirby, I won’t let them hurt you.”
“You hear that, Sandy? He thinks we want to hurt him.”
Sandy laughed and shook his head. “No, we’re going to make him feel good. I mean, it might hurt him a little, since it’s his first time, but he’ll get over that quick enough.”
Kirby whimpered and Jude reached behind to give him a reassuring pat. “You won’t touch him.”
Sandy smirked. “Do you think you can stop us? His scent is a beacon, drawing us to him—along with every other fennec fox for miles around.”
Jude glanced over his shoulder. Kirby’s expression was one of fear and… guilt? “What is it, Kirby?”
The shifter hung his head. “I’m sorry. I hoped we would make it back to my den before I went into heat.”
“You mean you didn’t realise it was so soon?” Jude asked. He had been able to tell how close Kirby’s heat was from the day they’d met. How had the shifter not realised?
Kirby nodded. “Back on Earth, my kind used to go into heat at certain times of the year, but on this world the seasons are different and it’s hard to tell when one finishes and another starts. Predicting your first heat is kind of hit and miss.”
Sandy coughed to get their attention. “As nice as it is that you’re educating the ignorant human, I’d rather we just get down to business. Right, Flick?”
Flick nodded. “Who gets the honour of going first?”
“You went first last time, so it’s my turn,” Sandy replied.
“But last time it wasn’t such a fresh piece as now. Who went first the last time it was one like him?”
Jude backed up a little, urging Kirby along with him. Maybe they could make a run for it while the two of them were arguing.
They made it about five meters before Sandy noticed.
In a flash the shifter pounced towards them, Flick right behind him.
Jude pushed Kirby out of their way and altered his stance, ready to take on the two shifters. He might not know everything about shifters and their heats, but he knew more than enough about fighting to protect the innocent to handle this pair of would-be rapists.
He concentrated his energy and hardened his body, letting Sandy hit him just as he turned his chest to stone. Other than a slight tearing of the seams of his shirt, the partial shift didn’t cause too much damage to his clothes. The same could not be said for Sandy’s fist.
The shifter screamed and clutched his hand to his chest. “What are you?”
Jude grinned. “I’m one charged with protecting the inhabitants of this world. And Kirby is under my protection.”
Sandy glared at him. “You’re not human or shifter.”
“No, I’m not.”
Flick, who had stalled his assault at the last moment, drew near. “I think I know what he is. There were stories, from back on Earth, about his kind. Hideous creatures of stone, who had the ability to take human form. They were even rarer than shifters. They were known as gargoyles.”
Jude wondered briefly what the stories said about his kind. From the look of hesitation on Flick’s face, he suspected not all of them were flattering. Not that the reputation of the gargoyles mattered to Jude, in fact it helped to have a fearsome reputation.
About the Author
L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances.
She believes mermen live in the undiscovered areas of the ocean.
She believes life exists on other planets.
She believes in fairy tales, magic, and dreams.
Most of all, she believes in love.
When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.
She loves hearing from readers and can be contacted
via her website or by email at email@example.com
A fairy who can’t control his glamour, and the growly Guardian who adores him, must stop the Veil that protects all fairy-kind from being detected in the human world from being destroyed.
Grey and Si have been dancing around one another for months.
Grey’s helpless attraction to fairies (and one fairy in particular) is a source of endless frustration—but as his energy can damage a fairy’s glamour, he can’t let himself get close.
Si is different to other fairies and he’s wearing down Grey’s defences. When Si discovers the Veil is thinning around the school where they both work—putting the students and teachers there at risk from detection—he needs Grey’s help to fix it.
Problem is, Si isn’t a true fairy, he’s just a magical mistake. For as long as he can remember all his glamour has done is messed up and broken stuff. Though Grey maybe older and wiser about a lot of things in the human world, he’s pretty clueless about all things magical. He doesn’t even know the Veil exists until Si knocks himself unconscious trying to save Grey’s reputation after a night out.
But it’s funny how mistakes work out. Even funnier how trusting one another can help even the most impossible events turn out all right.
Barely supressing a shiver, Si let the full rush of his glamour flood through him. Nothing else felt like this, the giddy flare of it as exhilarating as diving off a high rocky outcrop into a breathtakingly cold sea. Admittedly, he was probably a little addicted to the rush—magic in all its forms was notorious addictive. But more than that, for a brief second, Si was connected to everything—plugged into exactly the right place—powerful enough to affect change in the world, and unlike every other second in his life, he felt like he knew just what to do.
This was the good bit, the bit that convinced him that this time it wouldn’t go so horribly wrong.
Opening his eyes, he scrunched his toes against the soft threadbare strands of carpet and steadied himself.
Grey’s presence hummed comfortingly near. When fairies were in love, they could share their glamour, heal one another with it, share energy and connect with each another in a way that sounded so similar to the mating Grey longed for that Si wondered if it wasn’t the same thing. And the sex when you were connected was supposed to be fucking mind-blowing.
Si shook the thoughts from his head. He needed to focus.
Across the room, Greene’s eyes began to widen comically. Probably he could feel the ripple of Si’s magic as it charged the air around him, but Si didn’t care; there was nothing in his contract that said what he could or couldn’t do. And unless Greene transported him from the room somehow, there was nothing he could do to stop him either.
The urge to dramatically clap his hands together was strong. But good magic didn’t announce itself, as Levi, his mentor, used to say.
Si took a deep breath, then murmured as softly and as clearly as possible, “Let the truth be known.”
For an instant, the air shimmered, filled with the scent of dying leaves, oranges, freshly brewed black tea.
The world seemed to expand. Details became richer.
The truth was known. Si was certain of it, even if the details of how it was known eluded him.
A giddy, joyous feeling that whatever he’d done had worked danced in his chest, a feeling so at odds with the shocked expressions of everyone in the room. But it didn’t matter how they were staring at him. It had worked. He had worked. His glamour wasn’t some cosmic joke for other fairies to laugh at. It was useful. He was useful.
So why was all the air being sucked from his lungs? Why was the happy feeling disintegrating? Why was the world beginning to blur? But before he could come up with any answers that made sense, Grey’s carpet tilted towards him with the unexpected speed of a rollercoaster, and all the warm light suddenly drained from the room.
About the Author
Suki Fleet is an award-winning author, a prolific Reader (though less prolific than they’d like), and a lover of angst, romance and unexpected love stories.They write lyrical stories about memorable characters and believe everyone should have a chance at a happy ending. Their first novel This is Not a Love Story won Best Gay Debut in the 2014 Rainbow Awards, and was a finalist in the 2015 Lambda Awards. Their novel Foxes won Best Gay Young Adult in the 2016 Rainbow Awards.
Reece has one goal: to compete in the Olympic Games. With the gymnastics World Championships looming, his dream is one step closer to becoming a reality.
When his childhood sweetheart, Alex, walks back into his life unexpectedly, Reece’s world is turned upside down. Alex was the boy who inexplicably pushed him away and broke his heart; the boy he still loves.
When the truth behind their break-up is revealed, Reece wants to hold Alex up and give him the strength to heal.
But can Reece be Alex’s rock, and remain focused on his training, or will his Olympic dreams suffer in the process?
Hold Me Up is a MM second chance romance, with a slow-burn relationship and lots of hurt/comfort. It’s the first in a series of books that follows male artistic gymnasts as they chase gold.
Trigger warnings: Hold Me Up features a character who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks due to a past event that is briefly described.
“Pizza and beer, as requested.”
Alex’s smiled deepened as he stood back, allowing Reece to enter.
“Are we eating at the table, or are we going to be uncouth?” Reece made eyes at the sofa and then frowned playfully. “How can you be uncouth when you can’t be couth?”
Alex chuckled. “You’re an idiot.”
“It’s true, though,” Reece pointed out, kicking the door shut behind him. “Just like you can be over- or underwhelmed, but you can’t actually be whelmed. The English language is weird.” Raising the hand carrying the beer, he pointed to the table and then the sofa. “Table or sofa?”
Alex considered the question. The sofa would be far more relaxed, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. In just a few days, most of his barriers regarding Reece had crashed down. He was enjoying having Reece back in his life, but he felt like it was for all the wrong reasons.
Reece took the decision out of his hands. “The table is occupied by your laptop. Let’s take the sofa.” He put the pizzas and beer on the coffee table before flopping down on one end of the sofa. He looked up at Alex expectantly. “Are you joining me?”
Alex glanced at the table, wondering if he should offer to move the laptop. It would have taken him two seconds to close the lid and prop it against the wall and only slightly longer to take it back through to his bedroom, but he didn’t want to. Instead, he wandered to the kitchen units and grabbed the bottle opener from the drawer.
“Good call,” Reece said as he pulled two bottles out of the cardboard pack. He held them both while Alex flipped the lids off, and then gave one to Alex. “I got us garlic bread,” he declared. “And I seem to remember that you’re not much of a fan of topping on pizza, so I’ve got a margherita for you and pepperoni for me.” He took a swig of beer before opening up the pizza boxes and handing Alex his. Then he reclaimed the bottle. “We should have a toast.”
Alex raised his eyebrows as Reece lifted his bottle.
“To you. Reporter extraordinaire.”
Alex felt heat creep up into his face. “I don’t—”
“I do,” Reece cut him off. “Like I said earlier, your article was amazing.” He glanced around the room. “You should cut it out and frame it.”
The heat swept up to Alex’s hairline and into his ears. “My boss already did.”
“Where is it? I don’t see it up anywhere.”
“On the wall?”
Alex shook his head.
“You need to bring it home. I’ll help you put it up, if you want?”
Alex dipped his chin. “I—”
“It’s your first article. It’s a big deal, Alex and you should be bloody proud of yourself.”
About the Author
Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.
“If Jeremy thinks I will ever go away and leave him to himself to destroy what I want and need from him, then he will have to—say it.”
“I like who I am. It took years to create this persona, and I’ll be damn if I allow a brash, gorgeous, hot young twink like Dorian make me into someone I’m not.”
When a straight man meets an openly gay man, sparks fly in a good and bad way. Jeremy Westbrook is running from commitment, and Dorian Hart is looking for the love of his life after being ditched by his partner. If their lives aren’t complicated enough, a man shows up at Jeremy’s door and will turn his life upside down.
“No fucking way?” I murmured into the empty silence, just as I’d planned to pour myself a drink of Scotch on the rocks after I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I needed something strong. I placed the bottle down after pouring a slug. I closed my eyes for a moment, then I collected my thoughts. I wasn’t about to reach for a robe. If whoever had the nerve to show up at my door, they’d get what they were looking for—a naked ass with a hard cock.
After a quick sip, I placed the much-needed drink on the table, and sauntered over to the intercom to call security. Where the fuck was security and what the fuck were they doing? Giving each other a blowjob? I questioned.
Wasn’t it their job to scrutinize my guests and at least ask if I wanted to be bothered tonight? Or tell them I’m not here. Which wouldn’t be a lie. I glanced over at the clock. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be dressing so I could go over to that fucking country club. This was the third ring.
“I explicitly left orders for security to say that I’m out for the fucking evening,” I huffed, raising my finger to hit the button. Then came a loud knock.
Now I wanted to see just who had the balls to knock on my door.
I enjoyed my privacy. Everyone who knew me knew I didn’t want any company, especially since I’d been home for only a few days. Everyone except Max Gold that was. He didn’t respect my boundaries when he wanted something. I looked down at my watch sitting on a table with my keys, and saw it was later than I thought. “Fucking jet lag has my body all screwed up.”
I didn’t expect anyone today, must be a package, I rationalized. I inadvertently turned the lock, opening the door without looking through the peephole.
“What the fuck do you want?” I barked. I peered at the man in black with wide eyes and open mouth. Now I was shocked. My eyes locked on the six-foot, blue-eyed, black sheep of the Westbrook family. There’s always one in the family, and Jack Westbrook my twin brother was the one who now carried that title. Once it had been me, when my family wondered if I’d ever get married. I’d been postponing that for far too long, and everyone—especially my brothers and their wives —had started gossiping about me behind my back.
I’d been suspect of being gay, and my older brothers with their wives had questioned me at every turn.
“When are you going to marry Annalisa?” They’d corralled me at a family gathering in front of her, just to ask that question, hoping to get me to commit to something.
I did—my freedom.
They’d asked me too many times, and I’d forgotten what my excuses were. I’d finally given them different answers until even I became nauseated at the sound and thought of my voice, and the idea of marriage. The only one who didn’t appear to care had been my youngest brother, Carter, and Jack.
However, Thomas and Jarrett were wearing me down to the point that I was willing to give up my freedom, say, “fuck it,” and do the right thing—whatever that was.
Jack, nevertheless, had the balls to admit that he was gay and owned it. With me I couldn’t. I couldn’t admit that I loved men, wanted to be with one, wanted to spend the rest of my life with a man whom I loved, and turned me on in the worst way. That was my one and only desire—to find a man I could hold in my arms, look him in the eyes and say that I loved him.
I wanted to spend the rest of my life inside his hard body once I found him, go to sleep at night with my cock inside his hole. That was a dream of course, but it would never come true, because I had yet to meet anyone that incredible, who would hold my attention for more than a minute, and would make me want him the way I’d envisioned.
Besides, I was supposed to be straight and I couldn’t see starting over and having to endure what Jack had suffered by our family. A family of five fucking men, all straight and one gay. I’d say that was a good ratio. Out of five boys only one was gay—if you took me out of the equation.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in, big brother? How long do you expect me to stand out here while you gawk at me as if you’ve never seen me before?” Jack questioned as his glance wandered to his right and left, and then over my shoulder. “Don’t tell me you have company because I know you better than that, Jeremy.” Jack uttered with a weak voice. I reached for my robe on the hallstand and shrugged my arms through the sleeves, then tied the belt as I watched Jack, and I wondered what it could be this time.
“Since you know me so well, then why are you invading my privacy?”
Jack’s eyes met mine and then he pushed past me. I turned to see him march over to my glass and bottle on the table, reach for the bottle, then pour Scotch into my glass after emptying the ice into the butler’s sink, then filling the short glass to the brim, he guzzled down my expensive liquor.
“What the fuck is it this time?” I asked, standing behind him. “Who are you running from?” I met his glare as he turned, his brow furrowed making a V. Then his closed mouth curled up to the right into a tight smile.
“No one. Can’t I show up at my brother’s apartment without insinuations about my past?” Jack poured himself another drink, which fed my suspicions about him. There was something he wasn’t telling me. Someone or something had him on the run.
“You know why I asked you, Jack.” I sat and observed his body language. Maybe that would tell me something. “You’re my twin and whatever the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into now, I need to know about it.”
Jack slid down heavily on the sofa across from me as if he’d been up for days, and by the looks of him, dark circles around his eyes, and his soiled clothes with coffee stains, that left only one question in my mind.
“What is it this time? A disgruntled lover or two, the Russian mob, or both?”
About the Author
Sky McCoy writes HEA M/M Romance and erotica books of men who enjoy being gay, hot, sexy and in love. Love is the theme of Sky’s M/M books where you find drama, hot men, hot sex where the sex never cools, even if the drama does.
When Sky isn’t writing, you can check the interstate, because you may discover Sky driving west after living in New York for years. You can reach Sky here firstname.lastname@example.org anytime you want to chat.